Heartbeats
by SaveItForARainyDay172
Summary: Canville Prep has been chosen as the battle ground for the 10th annual Battle Royale. And it's all thanks to the school's anonymous gossiper, Mr. Scarecrow. Will they find him before he finds them? Or will their secrets kill them first? 46 heartbeats start. How many will end?
1. Contestant List

#1 Taylor Wilson

#2 Charlotte Michelson

#3 Sierra Mason

#4 Riley Evans

#5 Iris Trench

#6 Annie Bulmer

#7 Topher Evans

#8 Beckett Jameson

#9 Frankie Paden

#10 Rachel Adams

#11 Lyle Hennessey

#12 Victoria Tailor

#13 Caleb Smith

#14 Rose Grayson

#15 Cody Blackley

#16 Michelle Greene

#17 Daisy Swindon

#18 Ruby Mayfair

#19 Frederick Coverdale

#20 Axel Eason

#21 Poppy Cummings

#22 Ryan Callahan

#23 Cindy Pace

#24 Quentin Radin

#25 Natalie Zee

#26 Kasia Rickards

#27 Dante Turner

#28 Kira Tate

#29 Kellen Summers

#30 Laney Carter

#31 Keaton Hunt

#32 Warren Mitchell

#33 Tiffany Corners

#34 Gage Golightly

#35 Kiki Holland

#36 Nile Williams

#37 Stefan Briggs

#38 Sam McKay

#39 Link Lambert

#40 Ilyana Evers

#41 Kyle Butler

#42 Michaela Rosario

#43 Serena Kay

#44 Garrett Brooks

#45 Dallas Jones

#46 Luna Butler


	2. Chapter 1 - The Test

**AUTHORS NOTE (PLEASE READ THIS BEFOREHAND** **):**

This is my first thing posting here, so please be kind to me. I apologize about my punctuation, as I'm not the best at English. I'll appreciate any advice on this? I've tried to look over and edit as well as I can.

My story is very character-oriented, as in it's more of a character building thing, than world building. If you want a lot of instant deaths and a lot of gory violence, then I wouldn't recommend my story. I have some links of really good stories like that, though. There are some scenes of gory violence, particularly later on, but this will probably be a long story.

Also, **I will only post more of the story if people want me to, so please let me know if you do**. Otherwise I'll not post. I have the first few chapters done, and I've been working on this since 2012, but I've just gotten the confidence to post haha. I've actually done a complete rewrite, and just recently have I been inspired to continue it.

This first chapter is a brief character introduction scenario. It's basically my way of compacting in every character, so you have a brief glimpse, and you can scope out a favorite. After this I only focus on individuals/groups of characters. I swear it gets better/less confusing or at least I hope so. I hope it's not too info-dumpy. Also, it may seem like there are a lot of characters, but many of them die out right away.

Anyway, I'm only posting the first chapter to see if people actually want me to post more. If so, please let me know!

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"Don't you think this is strange?" Topher Evans (#7) asked, turning to his side, where Keaton Hunt (#31) was standing. Not that Keaton was his first choice or anything.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have even spoken to Keaton, but the notorious bad boy, and second-in-command to quarterback Lyle Hennessey (#11), was oh-so conveniently the closest person to him.

Apparently, for the first time in his entire life, Keaton shared his train of thought. He pushed his brown spiked hair from his eyes. "What is?" He laughed, brown eyes narrowed. "Yeah. You talking to me. That is strange."

Being on the same football team it was actually strange that they didn't talk to each other, Topher thought, but then he shook his head, realizing that he didn't even care. He and Keaton had as much in common as the tortoise and the hare. They may have run the same race, but their approaches were far too different.

Topher rolled his blue eyes. "No, this whole thing being called into school four days before Christmas for…" He used air quotation marks, " _A test_ …"

As if just realizing it, Hennessey, who was stood to the other side of Topher, allowed his brown eyes to scan the crowd in front of him. And it was a crowd, all right. Most of their class was amongst the sea, gathered around the closed hall doors or leaning against the lockers, ready to sit some secret test. Test. That was all the information they were given, yet everyone was there. Casual as could be, giggling and chatting to their friends. Like it was a normal school day.

"You're right, it's still vacation time. This sucks," bald-haired Stefan Briggs added, bringing Hennessey from his intense stare. Stefan shrugged his broad, football-molded shoulders as he remembered how his mother had gotten the phone call, and he'd been pulled from his nice warm bed into the harsh snow, and worse of all, _school._

Annie Bulmer (#6), the quiet, brown-haired girl, turned from her half open locker. She wanted to tell Topher she agreed. She wanted to tell Topher anything. Even hi. But every time she looked at him, her throat clogged, and she could hardly breathe. That day was no exception. Swallowing, she slammed her locker closed, and disappeared alone into the crowd.

Topher sighed, distancing himself from them, as always. Of course they wouldn't understand Topher's concern. They hardly understood words.

Taylor Wilson (#1), arguably the shortest footballer – heck, who was he kidding? –shortest boy in the entire freaking school understood, though.

His eyes locked onto Miss Donati, their English teacher, and he forgot what he was thinking, or even breathing.

He gulped, quickly brushing his black, multi-toned hair over his eyes.

But it was way too late. She saw him looking. "Tay," she started up the hallway towards him. Her green eyes flicked from side-to-side, and only after she'd scanned probably every person in the compact space did she continue, "What are you doing here?" She stopped in front of him, nervously threading auburn hair around her fingertips.

"That's the question I was gonna ask you…" He mumbled, his words as awkward as her hair-pulling. "What are we doing here?"

She sighed, caressed her forehead, and then muttered under her breath, "I can't believe they put you on the list." Her eyes widened with something he couldn't register. An emotion he'd never seen on her pale face before. She stepped back slowly, awkwardly. The sound of her heels echoed, even through the noise. "They know," she whispered.

He furrowed his brow. "What list?" He called after her. But she was already gone, and he wouldn't chase her. Not again.

"Are they seriously sitting the test?" Axel Eason (#20), one of the smartest guys in the entire school, asked no one in particular; though he didn't look it, with his shaggy black hair, and skinny jeans. His blue eyes were aimed towards the expanding group of footballers and adjacent cheerleaders.

Victoria Tailor (#12), his girlfriend, and the love of his life, answered, "Well, I'm sitting the test, and I'm not exactly the smartest." She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

He sighed, instantly relaxing into her embrace. "But you're the best, and the prettiest, and the most artistic, and –

"Who says this is even a test on smarts?" Gage Golightly (#34), the guy Axel had forgotten was there with Vicky's arms encircling him, spoke up.

Axel laughed at his best friend's remark. What else would it be a test on? What else _could_ it be a test on?

"Maybe they felt sorry for them…" Kellen Smith (#29), the stereotypical image of a geek, with his thick-framed lenses, added.

Gage let out a long breath. "More like they're gonna rope us into tutoring them."

Axel grabbed Vicky, pulling her into a long kiss. "At least we've got our hot date to look forward to after this."

"Lucky that some people have something to look forward to," Cody Blackley (#15), official school loner, muttered under his breath, as he passed.

"What the fuck's his deal?" Tiffany Corners (#36), official school bitch, murmured to Cindy Pace (#23), nudging her in the ribs. Cindy just shrugged. She was sick…Sick and tired of her so-called friends looking down on people, no matter who they were. Though the name she'd been cursed with said otherwise, she liked to think she wasn't as dense as people assumed. Still, like normal, she did the same thing. She grinned and nodded.

"Come on, Mr. James, a little bit of insider information wouldn't hurt you," Dante Turner (#27), one of the school's biggest Christians, said to his favorite teacher.

But Mr. James wasn't just a teacher to him. Mr. James was his confidant. His…he didn't know what he'd call him. Just not a teacher. Dante smiled. If their relationship said anything, Dante knew he'd be the first to get the hints.

Frederick Coverdale (#19), the second and well, only other member of the school's Christian society, laughed, obviously not agreeing. "He'd have to kill you first."

Mr. James scanned Dante over, his expression far from as happy as the two boys'. He ran an almost shaky hand through his ragged grey hair, aged from a lifetime of teaching, not factory work as someone on first impression would assume.

"I thought you were at camp," he said.

Dante nodded, causing his near-long black hair to bounce around his shoulders. "I was," he inhaled, deeply. "I got an early release, which doesn't mean anything when I have to come here for this elusive test." Dante swallowed down the words. He knew it did mean something. It meant too much.

"I've never heard of a winter camp." Sierra Mason (#3) beamed, coming to stand beside her best friend.

"Have you heard of a concentration camp?" Dante started. Sierra scanned him over, not sure if he was kidding, but she laughed, anyway. "Yeah, well, keep it that way."

Dante's hands trembled at the thought of it. Camp. Prison. Same thing. Shaking away the feeling, he turned back to his two… _three_ friends.

Unlike Dante, most people didn't care about the test. In fact, half of the crowd was made up of people that cared more about another important event.

Mr. Scarecrow, the school's official 'gossiper,' beckoned them into the school. Some of them questioned if it was actually gossip or truth. Truth normally won the bets when people browsed his website. So it was only inevitable that every person there would kill to know his identity.

 _Want to know who I am?_ _Well, you're not going to know sitting at home this Christmas. Unwrap your first gift. Get down to the school._

No secrets remained in the school. Not anymore. Mr. Scarecrow made sure of it.

"We gonna burn Mr. Scarecrow on the bonfire, or what?" Kira Tate (#28), the skinniest girl in the entire, scanned the group with her dark…black eyes. They apparently reflected her soul. She actually took pride in it. She giggled in regular fashion, and pushed her matching black hair over her shoulders, anything to attract Hennessey's attention, but it was already taken by that…That blond bimbo. Kira narrowed her eyes, aiming them at the Queen Bee, Cindy.

"I'm gonna kill Mr. Scarecrow myself for saying that I'm a bigger psycho than _him_ ," Keaton nodded towards Cody, who was leaning against the lockers, just staring. He spat on the ground, bringing Kira instantly back to reality.

"Oh, you mean when he published your therapist's file?" Hennessey grinned, feeding off Keaton's irritation.

"What the fuck else did you think I meant?" Keaton clenched his fists, not seeing the same amusement in the situation.

"I thought you meant the truth!"

"Oh, yeah, like when he said that you hadn't kissed a girl!"

They both charged forward, so quickly, so violently, that most of the crowd was shoved backward. Chests pressed together, they stared each other down. Anyone else, any innocent observer, would assume Keaton and Hennessey had a friendly rivalry going on with the way they smiled, laughed, genuinely were together…sure, they had a rivalry, but it was far from friendly.

"Guys, stop this shit!" Laney Carter (#30), knowing just how dangerous their natures were stepped in between them, arms-outstretched.

"Just a warning," Hennessey chimed, eyes on Keaton, "he won't hesitate to hit you."

"Just like I won't hesitate to hit my _best friend_ ," Keaton snarled, lurching forward, before exhaling, and finally stepping back. He didn't need to knock Hennessey down. He didn't even need to waste his breath. The flat-haired James Dean wannabee would do that all on his own.

The 'flowers,' named so intelligently by their shared flower names, stood by the doors, observing, as always. But that was as far as the flower similarities went. They weren't sweet…innocent, pretty like flowers. They were one of the most feared gangs in the entire school, especially amongst the guys, which was why the three girls stood alone, scoping out the crowd they were never a part of.

"I won't be surprised if Mr. Scarecrow's that bitter bitch." Iris Trench (#5) nodded in Rose Grayson's (#14) direction. Rose stared after Tay, as he chatted loudly to his close friend, Caleb Smith (#13), completely oblivious to Iris's scowls. "Ever since we exiled her she's had it out for us."

"But it's not just us," Poppy Cummings (#21) retorted, running a hand over her bright red pixie cut. "What does she have against the rest of the school?"

Daisy Swindon (#17) stepped forward. "It'd be too obvious if she just went after us, right? I gotta give the girl her intelligence."

"Yeah, she thinks her freaking smarts makes her better than us." Iris raised her dark eyebrows as Rose smiled at Tay. "Mr. Scarecrow should post that she's embarrassing herself by drooling over Little Taylor."

They laughed, falling back against the lockers.

"Little Taylor," Iris brought a pen to her lips. "I wouldn't say no to that."

"You wouldn't say no to anyone." Daisy rolled her blue eyes.

Iris's eyes boggled out of her head on the arrival of the blond-haired, ab-flaunting footballer. _Perfect_. "Wow. Warren Mitchell…" She whistled. "I'd say no to everyone for a night with him."

It seemed Kasia Rickards (#26), quietest of the cheerleading squad, and her supposed, so-called…whatever, friend Laney shared Iris's enthusiasm. Kasia crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, as Laney attempted to walk toward her. She tried to hide the fact that she'd just been scoping out Warren, Kasia knew it. But she wouldn't say anything…She was the shy…The quiet. The silent one.

Well she was supposed to be.

"Leave me alone you slut," she spat as Laney tried to close the gap between them. Irritated, she stormed onward, practically shoving herself at the double doors, not even waiting around to see the reaction of the entire squad.

Rachel Adams (#10) followed Kasia with her blue eyes, wishing she had the courage to speak up like that. To say something. She looked in Freddie's direction, as he stood by the doors, chatting animatedly with Dante, Sierra and Mr. James. She wanted to wish him luck, even with her eyes. But she had a weight tying her down. That weight was her boyfriend, Frankie Paden (#9.) With him pulling on her arm, she could merely pass Freddie by.

"Rachel," Ruby Mayfair (#18), her eccentric best friend, dressed entirely in leopard print waved. "Get yourself over here!" She would've smiled if she'd been alone. Rachel looked to Frankie…an instinct now. Asking for permission without even opening her mouth.

He was blatantly the physical one. In a heartbeat, he'd dragged her over to the doors. Ruby glared instantly, arms crossed.

"I said Rachel, not Frankie," she mumbled.

Rachel gulped. Frankie stood silently, though Rachel knew he'd be more vocal when they were alone.

She opened her mouth, about to apologize, but then Link Lambert (#40), another of the school's many loners, crashed into Charlotte Michelson (#2), red-haired captain of the drama club, directly in front of them.

The folders Charlotte had clutched to her chest scattered across the freshly polished ground. She sighed, again, for the fiftieth time of the day, irritated by the idiocy of her class mates. _Ha, class mates._ They didn't even deserve to be in her class, never mind one of her mates.

"Christ, use your eyes next time!" She shrieked, batting Link's hands away from the books he'd bent down to retrieve.

"Well, drama chick's on the warpath." Beckett Jameson (#8) chuckled as he walked towards the football crowd.

They all greeted him with pats on the side. Though he wasn't a footballer. God, he could hardly even lift a football. He was still accepted as one of them. Maybe it was his confidence. No, his looks. Yeah, definitely his looks. That blinding white smile, those relaxing, trustworthy sea-blue eyes, and the signature ash blond hair that was surfer-sleek. Who wouldn't die for them? He smiled that smile as he scanned them over. They were as shallow as a kid's pool. And as predictable as talent show.

"Maybe because she's about to reveal herself," Keaton said, drawing Beckett's eyes to him. "How much of a mindfuck would it be if he was actually a she?"

"Yeah right," Warren chimed, flicking his blond hair from his eyes. Yeah, shallowness was the only reason he'd made the team, Beckett thought, the more he looked at the kicker. Warren sighed as his eyes caught onto Kasia. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, "we'll be away from here next year, anyway."

Keaton grinned. "You won't be saying that once they publish what you got up to this weekend."

"How do you –

"Everyone!" Mr. James announced from the front of the crowd, waving his hands in the air. "The test's about ready to start. Get in line, and start making your way into the hall."

Keaton nudged Warren in the ribs and whispered, "After this, we'll know. Finally. I bet you care about that."

Warren looked away instantly, feeling the heat of Keaton's words.

Dante stepped ahead of Warren. But before he could enter the hall, Mr. James placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He stopped, looked back at him. "I'll look after your dog," Mr. James muttered, his eyes meeting the ceiling tiles, "when you go back to camp."

Dante laughed, awkwardly. "…Okay."

Dyson was as much a stray as him. He didn't need anyone to look after him. They both didn't need it. But Dante nodded, anyway.

Obeying instructions, Tay joined the back of the queue, ensuring that he was far from the rowdy footballers. As he moved forward, he felt a cold hand on his arm. He looked up to meet Miss. Donati's green eyes.

"Good luck, Tay." She smiled, shakily.

He looked over with a furrowed brow, then shook his head, and stepped forward.

And with that, every student had piled into the hall. If they'd listened closely enough, they'd have heard the sound of a bolt clicking into place.

But no one did.


End file.
